Rat Maze (Cricket Argyll)

[Substitute Author]

Cricket was shuffling through her supplies and determining that most of it would taste icky, even if Cookie agreed to make it for her, when a roar from above was followed by screaming. The ratmaid went stiff and stared at the trapdoor she had descended from not twenty minutes earlier. ?H-he wouldn?t be that mad ?bout his ladle,? she whispered to herself, but hastily raised the torch she had found and lit in the supplies and moved toward the ominous tunnel, just in case.

Clutching the ladle once more like a sword in one paw and the torch in the other, Cricket?s sensitive ears picked up further shrieks, barks and howls from the pandemonium breaking out above her head. What in ?Gates is he doin?? the child wondered apprehensively. Is he tearin? up the whole fort t?look fer me? On the heels of this thought came a much more disturbing one. If Cookie was indeed this mad, What?s he gonna do when he finds me?? She gulped, then decided now was an excellent time to go exploring. Nothing really terrible could be down here?nothing as terrible as the wildcat?s wrath, anyway.

She moved tentatively into the darkness when a crash from behind set her to running with a terrified squeak. The decrepit walls rushed past as each new shadow encouraged Cricket to change course, but now there were the sounds of paws and labored breathing behind her. The child dared not to look back, imagining Cookie and a pack of the island rats just at her heels. Nearly falling flat as her clumsy footpaws encountered loose stone, the torch flew from the rat?s paw and her world went dark.

If she had thought she was afraid with the torch, Cricket now experienced something she had never felt before in her young life: panic. The creatures were right behind her, their torches even beginning to light the part of the passage she was in. Instead of waiting for them to set upon her, the little rat shoved Cookie?s ladle into her mouth and dashed on all fours in the opposite direction of her imagined pursuers.

In this manner, she distanced herself from them, entering a larger room and heading directly for the passage across from her. When the sounds and light from the creatures following died off, the rat slowed, scared of becoming completely lost in the depths of what she perceived to be some sort of giant maze. There was little time to dwell on her isolation and how she was going to find her way back as a soft glow illuminated the walls and she could hear a single set of footpaws echoing in the distance. One beast was not nearly as intimidating as the hundred it had sounded like before, so the rat settled for hiding herself behind a pile of rocks off to one side.

Keeping her ears laid back, she peaked over the mound and spied something she had not expected at all. Instead of one of the island rats, crew or Cookie, it was the shrew slave and she was crying like she had just received a whipping. Cricket felt her spirits lift immediately at the sight of this pitiable creature who was obviously in far worse condition than herself. If only that cutlass was not so near her paw, the ratmaid fancied she would have sprung from her hiding place and terrorized Tassle further in the manner that Ashira had perfected. Now there was a lady vermin to admire! Not like her stupidly obedient mother or Doctor Lowri?s sniveling daughter.

When not in the kitchens helping Cookie, the ratmaid had enjoyed watching the ferret invoke terror with just a glance at one of the slaves or even the crew. Cricket had tried to achieve the same level of respect and awe from the beasts aboard the Black Brine, but failed. The crew tended to smack or whip her when she was too much in the way and the slaves merely groaned in annoyance. So she had resorted to violence because that at least brought the helpless woodlanders to attention. They could ignore her words and looks, but a rope flailing across their hides was enough to make them scream.

The shrew was moving off now, her fit, or whatever it was, over. Cricket followed quietly at a distance, as much out of curiosity as a desire not to be left alone in a strange place. Even if it was a shrew, At least she?s not Cookie.

Careful as she was it took some time before the rat caught up with the woodlander and by that time, she and the rest of the slaves had moved into another tunnel that Cricket entered without considering how many more slaves might be with Tassle and why they were down here in the first place.

??free, friends!? the child caught the last bit of whatever conversation the shrew was having. ?It will be alright. Let?s get some sleep.?

Before they could get properly settled a loud Achoo! echoed throughout the underground world and the mouse who had discovered the lake, nearest to the mouth of the entrance tunnel, jumped. ?What was that?!?

Cricket silently cursed her nose in every language she could think of as the dust collecting on it finally caused her to sneeze.

?Who?s there?? Tassle demanded looking back at the passage along with the rest of the slaves. ?Come out now?or else.? Cricket snorted reflexively and regretted it as she realized she was outnumbered here. ?I said show yourself!? Tassle approached the tunnel with torch held high to reveal the young rat in its wavering light.

?Or else what, Spikey?? the rodent sneered at Tassle, resorting to her tried and true tactics with the slaves when they had been on the ship.

Momentarily taken aback that the young vermin had somehow pursued them so quickly, the shrew froze a few feet away from the child. ?Or else,? she finally continued, brandishing the stolen cutlass in her paws, ?we?ll have to hurt you.? Another drawn out pause in which Cricket tried to determine if she should press her luck with this desperate-looking lot. ?How did you find us??

?What?s it t?ya, Spi--!? The ladle fell with a clang as Tassle swept her blade in an arc across the rat?s line of vision. Cricket screamed curses at the woodlander as she stumbled backward awkwardly. ?Squiggly-eyed gull with droppin?s fer brains! Frog-footed, slimy furred toad! I?ll f--!? the child seethed, but was shouted down.

?We don?t have the time to play nice, Cricket,? the shrew chittered, more angry than scared now that she knew it was only the bothersome child. The friends she might have brought with her, though... ?Did you follow us down here??

Whimpering, but refusing to cry in front of the slaves, the ratmaid picked up a rock and proceeded to chuck it at Tassle?s head without preamble. Ulrick, who had slinked back over to deal with possible pursuers and standing just behind the shrew, caught the haphazard projectile easily and tossed it to one side. ?You were asked a question, rat. How did you find us?? he reiterated with a menacing step forward that compelled the rodent to back further into the tunnel.

?Didn?t follow ya,? the girl sniffled. ?You chased me down here.? Then she stuck out her tongue. ?Meanystripe!?

?What do we do?? one of the slaves queried earnestly. ?We can?t just let her go or she?ll lead the vermin straight to us.?

?I can deal with her,? the badger replied, stepping around Tassle and grabbing the wide-eyed child?s arm. She had heard that phrase far too many times from Cookie not to know that creatures who were ?dealt with? usually ended up in the soup.

?Leggo me!? Cricket shouted, struggling fearfully.

?Oi?ll not ?ave ?ee murderin? a choild, Maister Hammerpaw,? Brooga moved with surprising agility to lay a hefty digging claw on the badger?s arm. ?She?m may be a rotten thing, but she be only a likkle girl. We wuddent be no better than ee vurmints iffen we ?urt ?er.? She looked sadly around at the other slaves, eyes resting a moment longer on the wounded squirrel. ?An? there been enough killin? for today, Oi think.?

Ulrick rolled his eyes, ignoring the rat?s increasingly frantic escape attempts. ?And what do you propose we do with a vermin child in the middle of all this?? he queried, civil enough. ?It?s not as if we can look after her nice and proper.?

?Oi?ll mind ?er-? Brooga began, but was cut off when the child in question jerked free of the badger?s grasp and wrapped herself, barnacle-like, around the mole?s midsection.

?Don?t let him hurt me, Broo-haha!? the rat pleaded. ?He?s a big meanystripe!? Pride was a forgotten thing for Cricket whose main concern now was keeping a body between herself and Ulrick. Brooga would work as a body. The great ugly mole was big enough to hide her, anyway.

-----

Life in the newly freed slave camp settled down for a time after Cricket was successfully corralled into a corner and watched by a rotating shift of woodlanders as the others rested and bound their wounds. They had allowed her to retrieve Cookie?s ladle after she had thrown a fit over it and now her mismatched eyes sparkled maliciously in the fire?s glow as she watched them. Stupid creatures as they were, they had not bothered to check her for other weapons and so her knotted rope remained comfortingly close about her midsection, ready to be put to use when the right moment presented itself.

She fell asleep against the wall after a time and awoke only when a paw began shaking her. Cricket?s immediate reaction when she became aware of this was to bite the paw. Though she hardly cared, the rat suspected the wounded ottermaid never quite forgave her for this.

Construction of the barricade was well under way and it took a moment for the lone vermin to realize that not only was the crew being shut out, but that she was being shut in with these creatures. ?I don?t wanna be stuck down here!? With you! she added mentally, though did not dare utter aloud with Ulrick?s hulking form nearby.

?Tough luck,? the riverdog growled at her. ?We don?t want t?be stuck with you either, but the Fates see fit t?continue punishin? us.?

?Enough o?that, missy!? Brooga spoke up as she waddled across the room with a large stone clutched in her claws. ?We?m all be stuck with ee others, so we shudd troi t?get along. Whoi don?t ?ee ?elp us?n out, Cricket?? Her friendly face crinkled into a haggard smile.

?No.? Simple. Direct. Labor like this was for slaves, not Cricket Argyll. She was about to turn away when Tassle stepped up next to her. The shrew looked better for her rest and had cleaned the cutlass that was now slung across her back looking like an oddly curved great sword given the woodlander?s size.

?You?ll help here, Cricket,? the shrew commanded, ?or you?ll help me and the others take a look at that tunnel over there.? The rat followed her paw to the rank-smelling passage, though the scent, the child noticed, had largely dissipated. ?We?re not tyrants like the sort you?re used to, but everyone will do their share of the work. You?re in better condition than most of us, so a heavier burden falls on you. Now choose.?

?Suck scum!? the child spat meanly as she stalked toward the tunnel where the more fit-looking slaves were congregating.